The series impossible monuments are my interpretations of documented events that inform larger concerns. I define an impossible monument as something that deserves reverence but by virtue of its incidental nature would never be elevated to the status of a monument.

impossible monument (on my eyes and my head)

13x17'

Flour

2015

This work draws upon various associations to bread, from ritual to calamity. It's conceptual framework is the idea of impossible monuments; those every day items or events that deserve reverence but most likely will never be acknowledged.  The entire piece is made from baking flour.

In every culture there is a key commodity central to a meal that equals the importance of bread. When we break bread we honor camaraderie and invoke peace. One little discussed aspect of the current strife in the Middle East is drought which forced thousands of rural farmers to abandon their land and move to the cities. The lack of response to their plight sparked revolts that accelerated the still unresolved conflict in the region. Their land lays fallow.

There is an Arab expression that translates to "on my eyes and my head" which parallels our own saying of "I would do anything for you". Used in the spirit of generosity it is a gesture of hospitality and respect.

impossible monument (flotsam)

15x14x8’

mixed media

2015

This work references the current refugee crises. Using information about what people carry with them when attempting to cross water, I imagined the experience of an unsuspecting fisherman pulling in his net with the discarded or lost belongings of these people. Lemons, which are packed to counter seasickness and survive a water crossing punctuate the piece. 

impossible monument (nothing but the memory)

8x32’

mixed media

2017

Buried in the glut of everyday information are incidents that are seemingly unfathomable but true. This work references a contraband business that was selling flotation vests to fleeing refugees that were stuffed with newspapers and other non buoyant materials.